


dépaysement

by chidorinnn



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Rare Pairings, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6660565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/pseuds/chidorinnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flora clasps her hands together a little more tightly, and her shoulders hike up ever so slightly. You know that you’re expected to exchange pleasantries with her, discuss matters of little importance, maybe even play together like children are expected to do.</p>
<p>“Stop lying,” you say instead.</p>
<p>Flora tilts her head to the side and smiles, perfectly, infuriatingly poised. “I have no idea what you’re speaking of,” she says.</p>
<p>You want to tackle her to the ground and slap her silly, but refrain from doing so because you know it will make Father angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dépaysement

**Author's Note:**

> Liberties taken with this fic:
> 
> 1) Members of the Flame Tribe have the power to manipulate fire, similar to how members of the Ice Tribe can manipulate ice.  
> 2) The Flame and Ice Tribes are in contact and have decent relations with one another.

You meet the Ice Tribe when you and Lord Kilma’s daughters are five years old. It will be two years before King Sumeragi is killed and Hoshido declares war on Nohr, four before the Ice Tribe is absorbed into Nohr, and nine before the Flame Tribe is absorbed into Hoshido (Father likes to call it “cooperation based on mutual respect”). Father speaks with Lord Kilma of brotherhood and camaraderie, and you don’t fully understand it because you are only five years old. You suspect that Father wishes that you did anyway. 

“Those in the Ice Tribe are not outsiders,” he once said to you. “Not in the way you’re thinking of. You see, the Flame and Ice Dragons were lovers, long ago. To cooperate with the Ice Tribe today means to honor the close bond our paragons shared.”

Your mind wanders because you are only five years old, and you can’t wrap your head around the big, complicated words Father and Lord Kilma are using. And now that you think of it, being forced to stand there with your father, doing nothing listening to two older men talk, is so incredibly _boring_.

Your gaze shifts to Lord Kilma’s daughters, who stand next to their father and directly across from you. The one closest to Lord Kilma – pale blue hair, soft green eyes – stands perfectly still with her hands clasped in front of her, her back so perfectly straight that you wonder how strong a blow it would take to get her to break her stance. The other one – pale pink hair, identical soft green eyes – fidgets with the hem of her skirt, staring down at her feet. 

You focus your attention on the blue-haired one and think that maybe, if you stare at her long enough, she’ll crumble. There’s something odd about the way she’s standing, even if it looks seemingly perfect and poised – like she wants to fidget and squirm like her sister, but doesn’t because she’s too… proud? No, that doesn’t sound right…

You don’t realize that you’re glaring at her until she meets your gaze evenly, devoid of expression yet unspeakably defiant. You’d glare at her even more fiercely, if Father’s hand doesn’t land on top of your head then, directing it towards Lord Kilma. “May I introduce my daughter?” he says in a voice too pleasant for any outsider, dragon relations be damned.

“Sir,” you say stiffly, bowing your head. “I am Rinkah.”

Lord Kilma gives you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “A pleasure to meet you, milady,” he says. “Allow me to present my daughters as well.”

The blue-haired sister copies her father’s smile and dips into the most graceful curtsey you’ve ever seen. Maybe she practices it every day like it’s some sort of art, you think spitefully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, milord,” she says sweetly. “I am Flora, and this is my sister Felicia.”

The pink-haired sister – Felicia, you presume – stumbles into a curtsey that looks more like an awkward misstep than a greeting. “H-Hello…”

Soon enough, your father and Lord Kilma start speaking again about matters that don’t concern you yet. They separate from you then, but not without Lord Kilma taking Felicia with them. This is a very deliberate move, you realize – if you are to succeed your father one day as chieftain, then you will have to establish good relations with the one who will succeed Lord Kilma.

Flora clasps her hands together a little more tightly, and her shoulders hike up ever so slightly. You know that you’re expected to exchange pleasantries with her, discuss matters of little importance, maybe even play together like children are expected to do.

“Stop lying,” you say instead.

Flora tilts her head to the side and smiles, perfectly, infuriatingly poised. “I have no idea what you’re speaking of,” she says.

You want to tackle her to the ground and slap her silly, but refrain from doing so because you know it will make Father angry.

* * *

The years pass, and it’s easy to forget Flora because the Ice Tribe is essentially part of Nohr’s empire, even when Lord Kilma supposedly insists otherwise, and Father doesn’t speak of that meeting again.

But when you see her again, in the halls of Castle Krakenburg wearing a servant’s uniform, you stop even when every instinct screams that you should _run_ – away from King Garon, away from the royal siblings who let you escape (even though one of their names sounds _awfully_ familiar). 

She doesn’t move as you approach her – her hands are tightly clasped before her just as they were all those many years ago, and her back is still perfectly straight. Her hair is longer, tied into pigtails, but her eyes are still as soft and ill-fitting for someone who is supposed to be in power. She tilts her head to the side and gives you that same fake, hollow smile. “Welcome,” she says, and it’s even more obvious that she’s hiding something – something wrong and unspeakably horrible.

“Why are you here?” you say instead of greeting her.

Her smile fades, and for the first time, she frowns almost disapprovingly at you. It’s a far cry from the usual smiles and stoic masks, but it’s perhaps the most honest and truthful you’ve ever seen from her. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Rinkah?” You feel a small pang of guilt when Kaze stops at your side. He was ahead of you just a few moments ago – and he’s never been one to leave a comrade behind.

“You can’t be here,” Flora whispers, perhaps more to herself than to you. Then, she inhales deeply and takes your hand. Her grip is firm, yet not crushing, anchoring you to her side. “Follow me,” she says. “The exit is this way.”

Logically, this could very well be a trap. She could be leading you back to the royal siblings, and the one most eager to execute you before may actually follow through when he catches sight of your again. Worse, she could be leading you straight to King Garon himself, which would not be a good thing for anyone involved.

But somehow, you can’t help but trust her word. Maybe it’s what Father said before, about the Flame and Ice Dragons being lovers. Maybe it’s that, even in a place like this, the Flame and Ice Tribes need to protect one another.

Flora leads you to an entrance different from the one the Nohrian soldiers brought you and Kaze through earlier. “Go straight through here,” says Flora. “You should reach a dark forest, and then after that the Ice Tribe village. If you tell Father that I sent you, he’ll offer you safe passage.”

“Thank you,” Kaze says politely. “We are in your debt. Er…”

“Flora.”

“We are in your debt, Miss Flora,” Kaze amends.

The smile she gives him is smaller, but it doesn’t feel quite as fake. “That’s _Lady_ Flora to you,” you mutter under your breath.

Kaze looks from you, to Flora, and you don’t think he really gets it. Still, he smiles and bows his head. “Right. My apologies.”

“Go,” Flora whispers. She looks downward, her eyes narrowing slightly before she fights of whatever unease is plaguing her now to school her expression into something more appropriate. But to leave now would mean to leave her behind – and something about her being here, in a servant’s garb, doesn’t sit at all well with you.

Kaze does follow her orders – he steps away from you both, ready to start running at a moment’s notice. But you turn back instead, taking Flora’s hand in yours just as she did just moments ago. It’s impulsive and stupid of you, but Father _did_ stress good relations with the Ice Tribe. “Come with us,” you say.

She pulls her hand away quickly and shakes her head. “I can’t… I’m needed here.”

“For _what_?”

She averts her eyes downward, and her shoulders, which were never quite perfectly square to begin with, hike up visibly. “Felicia and Jakob have gone with Lady Corrin…”

“So there is no longer any reason for you to stay,” you say bluntly. You extend your hand toward her, palm facing the sky. She finally meets your gaze, and chews on her lower lip. Her shoulders shake with something that looks suspiciously like a suppressed sob. “Come with us,” you repeat.

Flora squeezes her eyes shut and exhales shakily. Then she places her hand in yours and lets you guide her to freedom you don’t think she’s seen in a long time, if at all.

* * *

The legend goes like this: once, a long time ago, there were two dragons – one who ruled over infernos, and one who ruled over blizzards. Despite ruling over opposite elements, the Flame and Ice Dragons were very close, and they worked tirelessly together to make the people happy.

Then, one day, a wicked sorcerer from the west kidnapped the Ice Dragon and tried to seize her powers for his own selfish desires. Not only did he build a trap so powerful that there was no chance that she could escape, but he threatened to kill everyone in her home village if she even tried. The Flame Dragon so desperately wanted to save his wife, but the village was suffering through a particularly brutal winter, since the Ice Dragon wasn’t there to suppress the worst of it, and he couldn’t leave the villagers alone even for a short while. For months on end, the Ice Dragon was bound to the sorcerer, forced to wait on him hand and foot and fulfill all his horrible, spiteful wishes – a queen stripped of her power and reduced to a common servant.

But the sorcerer was not very well-liked in his own village. It was facing an awful winter of its own, perhaps worse than the one in the Ice Dragon’s home village, and the sorcerer had taken possession of most of the resources the villagers had accumulated for the winter. Feeling sorry for the villagers, the Ice Dragon used her powers behind the sorcerer’s back, weakening the blizzards and halting the snowfall. It was the most she could do behind the sorcerer’s back, but it was enough for the villagers to slowly regain their strength. 

With the Ice Dragon’s blessing, winter passed peacefully. And then, when spring came, the Flame Dragon finally left his home village to save his wife. In a fit of rage, he incinerated the sorcerer who’d dared to hurt the Ice Dragon, and though he begged for mercy, she had no sympathy for him. The Ice Dragon was set free, and the Flame Dragon was all too eager to bring her back home.

But the villagers were very sad, because it meant that the Ice Dragon had to leave. Seeing their tears, the Ice Dragon turned away her husband. “I am bound to this land now,” she said. “I have a duty to these people, and I cannot abandon them.” 

The Flame Dragon was furious, but there was little he could do. If he’d only arrived sooner, she thought, he would have been able to convince his wife to come back home. “Next time, I will save you sooner,” he promised, “and I will keep saving you, no matter what.”

* * *

Flora is there in Castle Macarath, perfectly poised with her hands clasped before her and her back (stiffly, uncomfortably) straight, in the same servants’ garb she wore when you and Kaze brought her to the Ice Tribe village on your way back to Hoshido. She smiles, and you want to take her by the shoulders and shake her because _she shouldn’t be here_.

“Everyone, this is my dear friend Flora,” Corrin says with a hint of pride to her voice. You want to wipe that blissful, ignorant smile off her face because it doesn’t belong there. Not when Flora is here, trapped. Not when you failed to save her. “She’s going to help Takumi!”

Because that’s all that matters, isn’t it? That the royal family’s needs are taken care of – never mind the people forced to bow their heads and give up everything they have to achieve that end. It’s not fair of you to think that way, you try to rationalize – it’s hardly Lord Takumi’s fault that he’s taken ill, nor is it his fault that you were all forced to take shelter in enemy territory.

And yet, you’re angry. You’re angry because _Flora shouldn’t be here_. 

But there isn’t any time to dwell more on the matter – you’re ambushed yet again by that sorcerer from Nohr. He throws taunts and insults at Corrin, but it hardly matters – it’s all he’s ever done. But when he directs his attention to Flora, however…

“Kicked out of Garon’s inner circle, were you?” Iago sneers.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Flora retorts icily. Her back straightens more, if possible, though it doesn’t look forced in the slightest. “I order you to leave at once.” Her voice is surprisingly firm and powerful, despite being so quiet. Maybe, if you were on the receiving end of her anger, you would have a hard time surviving. “I am an official employee of this palace, and you are not. I will _not_ have you destroy this royal villa with a battle!”

There’s no time to revel in her strength. Iago chuckles darkly. “Oh?” he says almost mockingly. “And if I get results, does the collateral damage really matter?”

The sorcerer raises his arm, and flames swirl around Flora. When she cries out in pain and collapses to her knees, something jolts painfully in your chest. “Flora!” Felicia cries as she runs to her sister.

Flora raises her head. She’s breathing heavily and her arms are shaking, but her expression is defiant. “Felicia,” she says, “take Lady Corrin and run.” Her voice is shaking, but it’s paradoxically the strongest you’ve ever heard it.

The sorcerer raises his arm to cast another Fire spell. This time, you don’t let it connect. It’s not the same as the natural flames you’re used to controlling, but you’re still able to divert them from their original course, away from Flora. “Think again, scum,” you snarl. He flings another Fire spell, and you deflect it just as easily as the first. 

“The apothecary is down the hall,” you hear Flora whisper behind you. You don’t know if she’s whispering too loudly, or if your hearing is simply that good. “Nobody works there anymore, but it should be fully stocked. _Go_.”

“B-But–” Felicia protests feebly. Behind you all, Corrin and Jakob are already ushering people outside, away from Iago. 

“There is someone who needs urgent medical attention,” you remind her, careful not to drop any names in case Iago overhears.

“But Flora–”

“I will ensure that your sister remains safe,” you say firmly. “Now _go_.”

Felicia casts one last uneasy glance at you both before running off after Corrin. “Now…” Iago says slowly. He wiggles his fingers, and Thunder magic crackles in his hand. “Where were we?”

Flora rises to her feet. “I’m sorry, Lady Rinkah, but your protection isn’t needed,” she says, twirling a knife in her hand. “I’m _perfectly_ capable of taking care of myself, after all.”

* * *

You should have known it was a trap, though you can’t say that, even if you’d known, you’d have done anything to stop it. The Ice Dragon’s duty, first and foremost, was to the people she was sworn to protect, after all.

So when Flora stands before you now, snow swirling around her as the air becomes frighteningly colder, you can’t bring yourself to get angry. Even as she forces her former master – the whole concept of her enslavement, because that is what it is no matter how she pretends that she was a willing participant, still makes you want to set everything on fire – to fight through the Ice Tribe like you’ve fought through all of Nohr up until this point, you don’t feel anything but… sorrow? Regret? You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it’s certainly a negative emotion that you’re not used to.

(The Flame Dragon was supposed to save the Ice Dragon. Every time, no matter how difficult it was.)

Flora goes down quickly because a life in servitude means that she’s had less time to hone her fighting skills. Ironically, it’s Felicia that incapacitates her, crying of loyalty and friendship to Corrin.

Flora closes her eyes, and her poise _shatters_. Her hands and shoulders are shaking too much, and it’s obvious that whatever she’s feeling now, it’s overriding every instinct she has to remain perfectly calm and polite. 

“Tell us,” Corrin says in the same threatening voice she reserves for King Garon’s lackeys. _Whatever happened to Flora being her “dear friend”?_ you think bitterly. “Why did you betray us?” Flora remains silent. “Answer me!”

And that’s the thing about ice – it’s powerful and dominating, but also _fragile_. All it takes is a single blow in the right place to shatter it.

So Flora burns.

You’ve seen enough flames in your lifetime to know that what consumes her now is enchanted, not natural. It’s not a cursed that has been placed on her – you saw her raise her arm to cast it on herself – but to do so _deliberately_ means…

“Flora!” Felicia shouts.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jakob tries to scold her, but his voice is shaking too much to sound like anything other than sheer panic.

“Oh gods…” Corrin whispers, covering her mouth with one hand.

“I’m so sorry…” Flora says quietly. “King Garon… it’s exactly as you said. He threatened me… told me he’d destroy the Ice Tribe village if I didn’t stop you…”

“Don’t you see?” Corrin says, her voice shaking with tears. “This is exactly why we need to stop him! Because of–”

Flora bows her head feebly – and isn’t that strange, because when has she ever been _feeble_? “This… is what I should have done the second he issued that ultimatum.”

“Hang on!” Felicia yells, and suddenly a violent gust of icy wind washes over you.

But the flames don’t die down – they won’t. You’ve never seen these flames before, but you’ve heard of them – your father used to tell you stories of the Flame Tribe village’s most fearsome enemies, not granted an honorable death in battle but forced to burn slowly, through the most agonizing pain. But Flora doesn’t cry out in pain, or even wince – and not for the first time, you wonder which of you is stronger.

“Someone help!” Jakob yells over the howling wind. “Bring water! Anything to put out the fire!”

It was always the Flame Dragon’s duty to save the Ice Dragon – and you will fulfill your duty.

You step forward.

Her poise crumbles further, and she takes a step back when she sees you approach her. “No…” she whispers. “Rinkah, don’t interfere.” _Rinkah_. not _Lady_ Rinkah. 

You don’t listen to her. You continue to step forward, and she continues to step back, until she’s gone so far back that another step will set the nearest building on fire. She still wears her usual frown in place – stern and resilient, yet somehow out of place with her considerably softer eyes. She should be in pain. She doesn’t look like she’s hurting at all.

First, you need to physically touch the flames and bind them to you in some way. So you wrap your arms around Flora’s shoulders and pull her close to you. There’s an explosion of pain – how has she been withstanding this for so long? – but you will yourself not to cry out. You don’t entirely succeed – you gasp, and you squeeze your eyes shut, but you don’t scream. Every instinct screams for you to pull away, to let the flames complete their course – but letting Flora die has never been an option.

It’s easier said than done to ignore the pain and focus on the flames themselves, but once you do, it’s surprisingly easy to quell them. You will them outwards and up, away from your companions, away from _Flora_ , and they dissipate into smoke.

In one brief instant, you hear your father’s voice in your mind – except it’s not just your father. It’s Lord Kilma too, their voices blending into one. “You must cooperate with them, my daughter. This will ensure the tribe’s survival.” 

If there was any doubt before, you can now confidently say that, had you been in her position, you would have done exactly the same way – all that’s left to wonder is if she would try to save you.

When it’s all over, you both collapse to your knees. Your arms are still around her, and she doesn’t try to push you away. Felicia, Jakob, and Corrin shout her name from somewhere behind you. She looks up at you, eyes wide.

Flora _screams_.

* * *

You’ve never liked how the story of the Flame and Ice Dragons ended. It felt too contrived, how the Flame Dragon so easily accepted the Ice Dragon’s decision to stay behind in her new home. It was unfair of the Ice Dragon, you’d always thought, to reject the Flame Dragon after he’d worked so hard to save her.

Though now, looking at Flora lying on the bed before you, her eyes closed in some semblance as her chest rises and falls with each breath, proof that you succeeded, that the excruciating pain from the flames was worth it… you think you finally understand.

Though it had certainly looked quite serious at the time – and it certainly was, had you let it continue for a moment longer – she wasn’t too badly injured. Her clothes weren’t even too badly singed. Though that was the nature of those flames, you suppose – meant to burn only the guilty and nothing else in its path. It’s been a long while since those flames were last used, but you never thought you’d see them in the Ice Tribe village, of all places. Maybe it was a relic of times past, left behind by previous members of the Flame Tribe – because your tribes have always been connected, in that etherial way you never truly understood before now.

Slowly, Flora’s eyes flutter open. She blinks a few times before her gaze settles on you, and the smile she gives you is small and broken but perhaps the most genuine you’ve ever seen from her. She takes one look at your hand, lying limp over your knee, and slips her hand into it. “Hello,” she says, her voice thick with sleep.

You allow yourself a small smile of your own, and you nod to her. “Good evening.”

“I see Felicia and Lady Corrin finally retired to bed.”

“Jakob had to physically drag them away.”

She laughs, and it makes something warm bloom in your chest. “Is that so?” Then, her eyes narrow, and she looks downward. “Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?”

Despite her unease, you grin at her. “I don’t think that was ever a question.”

She winces, though you don’t think it’s from physical pain. “Will _you_ ever forgive me?”

That was never a question either. “You were trying to protect your people,” you say. “There is nothing to forgive.”

She gives a small, barely audible gasp, and then tears pour out of her eyes, falling sideways onto her pillow and into the bedsheets. “Thank you… Thank you so much…”

There is nothing left for you to say – you squeeze her hand in response.

* * *

Once, a long time ago, there were two dragons – one who ruled over infernos, and one who ruled over blizzards. Despite ruling over opposite elements, the Flame and Ice Dragons were very close, and they worked tirelessly together to make the people happy.

When the Ice Dragon was taken away, she found a new village to protect, and she stayed behind to watch over it even when she was freed from the sorcerer who’d enslaved her. Though it was painful for her to do so, to be separated from her husband, the Ice Dragon fulfilled her duty to her people until the end of her days.

But the day she lay on her deathbed, the Flame Dragon, old and near death himself, came to her side. “Will you ever forgive me, for leaving you behind?” she asked him.

“My dearest,” he answered, “there is nothing to forgive.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you think about it, Rinkah and Flora are actually quite similar. Both are daughters to tribe chieftains and are expected to make sacrifices to protect their respective tribes. Naturally, this sense of duty they're supposed to uphold will eventually clash with their wants and desires. In Birthright, it works out well for Rinkah - not so much for Flora.
> 
> But Rinkah has some freedom, since the Flame Tribe has a very amicable relationship with Hoshido. She's able to grow into her own person, outside the context of her duties and obligations. Flora doesn't have that luxury - she's a political hostage, and she's forced to prioritize her job while being hostage and her duty to her tribe over herself. Except, Flora can't deal with the pressure, so she (literally) crashes and burns.


End file.
